My Favourite Christmas Tradition
by PoisonousTiger
Summary: Christmas is full of tradition. Some traditions change with time, but then there are some that we keep the same because they are so precious to us; Alfred & Arthur are no exception to this. Lots of Colonial!USUK & USUK fluff & some squee. One-shot.


******My Favourite Christmas Tradition**

"You mean if I hang this stocking here, Father Christmas will fill it with gifts?" Alfred asked, his eyes filled with excitement.

Arthur nodded, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

The younger nation attached the stocking to the end of his bed. "Do you really have to go away before Christmas?" Alfred asked, looking slightly upset.

Arthur sighed and ran his hand through his messy blond hair. "It'll only be for a few days, Alfred. I have a few things I need to do in another town here in America," he said. "It's not like I'm going all the way back to England. It is just some government duties that you don't need to worry about. I should be back either Christmas Eve or, hopefully, one of the days before that. It all depends upon how quickly the business gets finished."

The small blond boy smiled and grasped Arthur's hand. "Let's finish decorating then. You said there was something you needed that finally arrived today?"

The house was already decorated with red ribbons and evergreen branches all over. A large evergreen tree was in the middle of the front room, covered with ornaments, candles, red berry strings, and other decorations made by the two nations.

"Here it is," Arthur said, leading the boy over to the parcel in the front room. He pulled out the small plant covered with green leaves and white berries. "Mistletoe . . . well, American mistletoe. I'm surprised that it grows here actually; I thought this was native only to England. This is not exactly the same kind that I have, but it's close enough. English mistletoe would take too long to get here." He walked over to the entryway and grabbed a footstool. Using a red ribbon, he attached the sprig to the chandelier above the entryway.

"Why are you doing that, Arthur?" Alfred asked.

Arthur smiled and stepped down from the stool. "This is a tradition in England," he stated. "Long ago, druids believed mistletoe had magical powers. Even farther back, the Romans considered it a symbol of peace, and when enemies met under it, they would discard their arms and declare a truce. Well, the English changed that tradition slightly: when you meet someone under the mistletoe, you give them a kiss."

He set the stool back where he'd found it. "What do you think? Looks nice, right?" he said, looking up at it. His young charge was quiet, and that was unusual. Arthur looked down and noticed that the boy was blushing and looking at the floor. Alfred looked up as if he was looking above Arthur and then quickly looked down again. Arthur glanced up and saw that they both were standing under the chandelier where the mistletoe was hanging.

Arthur laughed and crouched down to Alfred's level. "We don't have to kiss," he said, looking into the boy's clear blue eyes. "Usually it's just men and women who—" Arthur stopped short with his explanation when Alfred startled him by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. Arthur felt his cheeks grow warm.

"Family members can kiss," Alfred said.

Arthur felt a smile spread across his face. He patted his adopted brother's head, and then he returned the kiss. When he moved away from the boy's cheek, he noticed that Alfred's entire face had crimsoned.

"It's kinda embarrassing, huh?" Alfred said. "Because we're both boys."

Arthur shook his head. "We care about each other, so it shouldn't be embarrassing."

The boy nodded, giggled, and grabbed Arthur's hand, pulling him into the front room.

"Look at what I drew for Father Christmas," he said, pointing at a drawing on a desk. Despite the childishness of the sketch, Arthur could tell that Alfred had drawn them both. The young nation had made a point to draw Arthur's thick eyebrows. That was always the feature Alfred made sure to accentuate.

Arthur glanced out at the snowman on the front lawn; it had pine-cones for eyebrows. _Well, I suppose it's better to be imitated than hated_, he thought as his older brothers came into his mind.

"I'm going to write Father Christmas a letter on this," Alfred continued. "Should I put it by my bed or here on the tree, or should I send it by post to him?"

"You can't send it by post; you don't know where he lives," Arthur said. "Putting it by your bed on your bedside table should be enough." The boy didn't appear to be listening to him. Arthur was about to reprimand him for that when he noticed that he was writing something on the paper near the drawing.

"Did I spell everything correctly?" Alfred asked, handing it to him.

"Dear Father Christmas, Thank you for the gifts," the note on the drawing said. "Please don't forget my brother, Arthur. He might be late getting home, but he lives here too. I don't want him to be forgotton. He's been very good to me. I'll put a stocking up for him too, so please fill it up as well. Thank you again, Alfred."

Arthur felt his eyes burn as tears threatened to leak out. He held them back, which only made his nose itch and threaten to sneeze. "You misspelled '_forgotten_'; there's an _E_ after the two _Ts_," he said, rubbing his nose.

The boy made the correction, fudging the _o_ into an _e _with his pen. "I'm going to put this in my room right now, so I don't forget where to leave it," he said, running out of the room.

Arthur took the moment to wipe his eyes, just in case. "When you're done, come down and we'll have lunch," he called.

"Muess fhat fI learmed trom de mreen mrocer de ofer fay," Alfred said, his mouth full of food. Some crumbs of bread fell out of his mouth.

"Swallow before you speak," Arthur said, wiping his brother's mouth with a napkin. "No one will be able to understand you otherwise."

Alfred swallowed. "Guess what the green grocer told me the other day," he repeated.

Arthur shrugged. "You've grown since he last saw you?" he guessed.

The boy frowned and shook his head. "He always says that," Alfred said. "No. He told me about this tradition that they do in his homeland: when they are waiting for loved ones to come home, especially on Christmas Eve, they'll place a candle in the window to help them find the way. Neat tradition, huh?"

Arthur nodded, finished his meal, and cleared his dishes from the table. "Well, I'd better get going," he stated, quickly washing and drying his dishes before putting them away. "Otherwise, I won't get to my first stop before dark." He turned to see Alfred's eyes wet with tears.

"You have to go right now?" he said, trying not to cry. He ran over to Arthur and grabbed on his trouser legs.

"I've already stayed as late as I could," Arthur said, patting him on the head. "I promise I'll be home for all our Christmas celebrations. On Christmas Day, we'll have goose or turkey, mince pies, roasted potatoes, Christmas cake and pudding, and lots of other good things to eat. How does that sound?"

The boy's eyes lit up at the prospect of food. "I'll make sure to watch for you," he said.

Arthur let out a small laugh. His young brother was sometimes forgetful, so he didn't expect him remember to do that. Plus he had no idea what time he'd arrive back, and it would most likely be too late for the child to stay up.

"Finish your meal quickly," he said. "The sooner you do, the sooner I can leave and come home."

Alfred dashed back over to his plate and shoved the rest of his food into his mouth, choking when it all didn't fit inside.

"You don't need to finish that quickly," Arthur said, walking over to pat the coughing boy on the back. _I'm glad I asked a neighbor to feed him while I'm gone. I don't know what trouble he'd get into if he had to feed himself._

Alfred finished eating, and after Arthur had cleaned the dishes, the younger nation helped Arthur get ready to leave by holding onto his hat while he put on his coat.

"Hurry back soon!" Alfred called as Arthur walked down the front walkway.

Arthur turned and waved before getting into his carriage. He sighed as he sat down inside. He didn't like all the taxes he had to levy and other administrative things he had to do while staying in America, but his king demanded it, and a nation is subject to his or her "boss".

* * *

Arthur jumped as some colonists startled him by shooting off their muskets into the air. They called it "Shooting in the Christmas". He just couldn't get used to this country's way of celebrating the season. That's why he was trying to teach Alfred some of his Christmas traditions. He'd taken longer than he expected to head back, but that was because he had taken his time getting some gifts to put in Alfred's and now _his_ stocking. It was already getting dark as Christmas Eve waned on. Arthur calculated that his carriage wouldn't be home until long after midnight.

As the carriage pulled up to the house, Arthur noticed something that made him misty-eyed. He hadn't really been listening that closely earlier, but there it was, beautiful and inviting: a candle sat glowing in the front bay window to greet him. _For loved ones to come home, especially on Christmas Eve, _Arthur remembered Alfred saying, . . . _a candle in the window to help them find the way._ The boy had remembered, at least, to have something waiting for him. _I'm sure Alfred has gone to bed by now,_ he mused, walking towards the house from the carriage.

Just the same, he quietly opened the door and hung up his coat and hat, not wanting to wake Alfred. He walked into the front room to extinguish the candle and stopped short at the entrance. His young charge was lying asleep, propped up on the bay windowsill with a blanket wrapped around him. His head was turned toward the candle and rested on his folded arms as if he'd fallen asleep while watching.

Arthur walked over to the boy and gently lifted him up as he blew out the candle. Alfred stirred but didn't fully awaken. He nuzzled his face into Arthur's shoulder.

As Arthur turned to head upstairs, he noticed something that made his heart feel warm. There was evidence of quite a few used-up candles on the windowsill. _How many nights did he stay up watching? _Arthur wondered, wiping away a tear from his eyes with a free hand.

He carried his younger brother up the stairs and tucked him into bed. Then he hurried downstairs to gather the gifts and back upstairs again to quietly fill the two stockings at the end of the boy's bed.

"I wish I could personally thank Father Christmas for all the gifts," Alfred said at dinner that Christmas afternoon, "but I can at least thank you for the Christmas star for the tree, Arthur. You didn't have to get it, you know."

The pure silver star twinkled at the top of the tree. Arthur admired how nice it looked. "Well we didn't have one, so I thought 'Why not?'," he said.

Alfred smiled and looked up at the star again. "Well I love it!" he stated.

Arthur smiled back and took a drink to hide his delight at that statement.

Alfred chewed quietly for a moment. "When I get older, will you introduce me to your friends?" he asked.

Arthur swallowed. He knew that Alfred meant other nations. A few non-nation colonist friends were already gathered for dinner that day; Alfred had "invited" them over. Fortunately, most of them were 10-year-old girls and boys (which made sense since they were the "age" with whom Alfred _would_ be making friends). If they sensed that he and Alfred were different, they would soon forget that feeling. Arthur cringed inside. He didn't have many nation friends . . . in fact, the ones he knew he wasn't sure considered him a friend or vice versa. He nodded, unsure how to fulfill that promise.

"I hope I'll be able to make friends with them too!" Alfred continued. "The only good thing about winter is Christmas, and I want to share it with all the people I love!"

Arthur smiled. He hoped that his brother would always stay the same; the part of him that generated that statement was one of the best parts about Alfred. "I hope so too," he agreed. "It's a promise. Now hurry and eat; we've got church to attend after this."

* * *

"Yo Artie! Thanks for coming," Alfred said, walking up to Arthur and patting him hard on the back. Arthur winced. He had been looking out the bay window in the front room and watching the snow fall.

"Thank you for inviting me," Arthur replied, turning to look at the other nation.

Alfred nodded. "No prob." He looked around. "I think this is the best turnout I've had in years." From his vantage point in the front room, Alfred surveyed the other rooms on the ground floor as guests walked around, talking with one another and enjoying the party. He let out a small satisfied laugh.

Inviting all his friends for a Christmas party was still a tradition that the now-older and now-taller nation kept up, along with the Christmas Dinner. As he glanced around the house from the front room, Arthur decided, however, that his former-colony (and former-brother) took the rest a little bit to the extreme. The dinners were always huge. Decorations were everywhere; most of them were red and green, but some of them seemed a little too bright and didn't look natural at all. The tree was gargantuan and covered with all sorts of ornaments and colors, and his invitations one year sounded a little more like a threat than an invite. Fortunately, he listened to Arthur's scold for that and had made normal invitations this year.

"White Christmas" by Bing Crosby started playing out of the MP3 player that Alfred had hooked up to his stereo system. Arthur had to admit that America did make some wonderful Christmas movies and songs despite the slight warping of other traditions.

Arthur noticed that right shoulder felt warm. He glanced at it and felt his cheeks heat up when he saw that Alfred's hand had unconsciously rested there after his enthusiastic back-slapping greeting. He stared at the younger nation's hand and felt the rest of his face get warm.

Alfred must have felt the stare because he glanced at Arthur. "Ah! Sorry," Alfred said when he noticed Arthur's expression and what he was doing. He removed his hand and looked away.

_Why is he acting embarrassed?_ Arthur wondered, suddenly feeling embarrassed by Alfred's reaction. He found himself following Alfred's lead as he glanced around the room, trying to avoid looking at the other nation.

"Why does Francis always leave early with the girls he brings along to the party with him?" Alfred asked suddenly.

Arthur glanced at Alfred and then turned to watch with him as France walked out the door with two buxom women. "Because, to some, Christmas is about spending time with those you love," Arthur stated, feeling like that statement didn't actually fit what France was doing. "Switzerland says Christmas is about spending time those you care about, which includes friends and family."

"Yeah. That's true," Alfred said as he looked up at the tree in the middle of the room.

Wondering what could possibly get his attention, Arthur looked as well. A flash of silver at the top caught his eye. The star from all those years ago still twinkled brightly from the top. Arthur felt a wave of nostalgia and warmth swell inside his chest. He knew very well that silver darkens over time if not polished and stored properly.

"I'll Be Home for Christmas," started to play, filling the whole room. Several party-goers chatted in the next room.

"Hmm? I forgot I put that up _there_ too," he heard Alfred say. Arthur's nostalgia turned to irritation as he turned to counter what sounded like a put-down of a cherished memory, but he stopped when he saw Alfred looking above them at a chandelier instead of at the tree. He looked up and noticed a green plant with white berries tied to it with a red ribbon.

He looked at Alfred.

Alfred looked back at him; his cheeks colored. "Ah, what the hell . . . It's Christmas, after all," Alfred said as he leaned over and kissed Arthur on the cheek.

Arthur felt his face grow hot. "Wha—" he started to say, his cheeks crimsoning.

"It's tradition that even enemies put aside their quarrels when they meet under mistletoe, isn't it?" Alfred interrupted. "Well, we're friends, right Artie? Because we have a special relationship? Besides, no one was looking . . . I couldn't miss a chance like that; I worked too hard putting that stuff all over the house for it." The younger nation turned towards the dining room where everyone else had gathered.

"So Artie, do you want some cake?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. "It's almost time to cut and serve some." Alfred smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked into the other room.

_I worked too hard putting that stuff all over the house_, echoed in Arthur's head and pulled him out of his stunned state of mind. "Wait a minute, do you mean you planned that?" he asked, chasing after Alfred.

Alfred just smiled. "Merry Christmas, Arthur," he said, handing him a plate with a piece of cake on it.

* * *

**A/N**

**Yes. I know that the title is using the British spelling. I wrote it that way on purpose. ;)**

**I personally felt this might be more of a K+ rating, but just to be on the safe side, I chose the Teen rating (sorry, if anyone feels like it should have gotten a lower content rating, feel free to PM me about it)**

**I know that this one-shot might not be 100% historically accurate, but I hope you'll forgive me for that. "Shooting in the Christmas" really was a Colonial America tradition (only they did it before and after Christmas, not just on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day). I wanted to share some holiday traditions of England (since we didn't get to see/hear what they were in the anime). The English have been celebrating Christmas since around 600 AD when Christianity was first introduced, but I'm not sure which tradition was started when . . . (I'll admit I didn't want to ****spend too much time researching that information). My heritage is English (part of it anyway), and we still practice a lot of the traditions mentioned in this fanfic in my home every Christmas. **

**Hetalia's depiction of Christmas in America was funny but completely foreign to me (especially the Christmas cake thing; our Christmas cake is an English recipe that's been passed down for 100+ years, not some radioactive-colored cake). I was like "Is that how our Christmas is perceived, or is that really how most Americans celebrate the holiday?" to my brother. He just shrugged.**

**I need your help with a future fanfic that I'm writing in the near future: it's a GerXfem!Ita **_Gakuen Hetalia AU Gender-bend (it's a bloody brilliant conglomeration, yes?) . . . I'm a little nervous b/c I've not written for this pair before; hope I do okay -_-. I've created a sorta-Role Play style forum to help out with things like voting for Student Council and helping out with names for nations who haven't received human names yet._** Please check out my profile for the current poll and links to the forum (come play with me? I'll greatly appreciate it).**

**If you liked what you've read, please let me know in a review (they make me happy). Faves and alerts make me giddy and giggly. If you have some concrit for me, please let me know as well (you can leave it in a review or PM me, I'll be happy for it either way). If you didn't like what you've read, thank you for taking the time to read this far ^_^ **

* * *

**Almost forgot:**

Although this story is my own work, it is based off of characters from _Axis Powers Hetalia_ (manga & anime). _**Axis Powers Hetalia a**_**nd its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and other copyright owners.**


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